


My Dear Little Robin

by myheart



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics), Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics)
Genre: Biting, Blood Kink, Blow Jobs, Choking, Dom/sub Play, Dom/sub Undertones, Dominance, Embarrassment, Face-Fucking, Gun Kink, Humiliation, Implied/Referenced Incest, Knifeplay, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Public Sex, Scratching, Semi-Public Sex, Voice Kink, if you read too much into it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2018-08-15 23:07:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8076472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myheart/pseuds/myheart
Summary: Robin takes what Deathstroke Gives.or: Damian gets dicked down by Slade





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Damian is definitely above 18 in this
> 
> idk if i wanna make more chapters of this buuuut maybe

“This doesn’t mean anything. Not to me, and surely it shouldn’t mean anything to  _ you _ .” 

“You act like this is new to me.” Deep voice. Very deep voice in his ear. And a disgusting alley that he currently stood in.

Damian groaned, not bothering to cover it. He didn’t care about this piece of shit’s opinion of him. “With the way you’re moving, it’s only right to assume it  _ is  _ new.”

Slade stayed silent for a few seconds, which is always bad for Damian. He chuckled darkly against the shell of the Robin’s ear. “And with the sounds you’re making-” Slade, though moving quickly to get his hands on Damian’s hips, moved him slowly after. Slade was pushing himself deeper inside of him. Damian could only lean against the man more, his knees weak, his whines high. “it sounds like you’re enjoying it.” 

_ Fuck.  _ Damian thought.  _ What did I get myself into?  _

_ Or rather, into me. _

“Shut up and move.” He snarled, no longer making Slade carry his body weight against his chest. Damian closed his eyes tight and leaned his forehead against the wall in front of him”

“Oh, I don’t think you want me to shut up. I think you want me to talk-” He moved down to Damian’s neck and ran his cold mask against his neck, “right into your ear. Isn’t that right, Robin?”

Damian stayed quiet, eyes closed tight enough to see stars- or maybe those were just from the feeling of Slade’s cock inside of him. Hating the silence and stillness, Damian tried to take matters into his own hands and move his hips against Slade’s. Immediately, the masked man’s death grip tightened on his hips. Though, the feeling made Damian inhale deeply.

“ _ Bad Robin _ . You didn’t answer my question…” His left hand loosened its grip, only to scratch his nails against Damian’s hip. Damian, though shaking, turned around quickly, ready to yell at him to not leave marks. But Slade was a step ahead of him, already leaning in to meet him mask to mask. “Face forward, my little Robin,” Slade’s hand grabbed Damian by his chin, turning him forcibly.

He huffed, balling his hands into fists against the wall in front of him. “ _ Talk _ .” Damian gritted between his teeth.”

“I didn’t seem to catch that, speak up.” Slade leaned closer, covering Damian’s back with his chest, putting his ear close to the young man’s mouth. 

“ _ I want you to talk _ .” He gritted out again.   
  
“And why’s that?” Slade drawled out.

“Why should I tell you? You’re incredibly creepy. You waited for me the second I was legal. Disgusting.”   
  
“Mm, except. I wasn’t the one who was begging to be fucked anytime he so much as  _ thought  _ of Poison Ivy’s pollen, even before your birthday. I wonder if it has to do with Batman. Could it be that little Robin has daddy issues?”

“I am not here for you to psychoanalyze.” Damian said.   
  
“My mistake, you’re here to give yourself to me. You want to be used.” Finally, Slade began slowly moving inside of Damian.

“Even if that were true, you’re not doing a good job of using me.” Even as his breath quickened, his snarled his words as best as he could.

“That’s because my dear little Robin hasn’t told me why he wants to hear me talk. Maybe I’ll use him properly when he admits the truth.” 

Damian huffed again, turning away from Slade’s mask. “I enjoy your voice, Deathstroke.”

The other man only laughed, hands back on Damian’s hips. As soon as he felt it, Damian arched his back and inhaled, waiting. Slade held Damian in place as he pulled his cock out as much as he could, then slamming it back into him with a grunt. “Wouldn’t it be so much easier for us to trade names, you could be screaming mine.”

Damian rolled his eyes. Deathstroke being able to see or not, that is a lazy way to get your enemies identity. “You seem to forget that we are still enemies after this. And ‘deathstroke’ isn’t a mouthful, just like the rest of you.” 

“Oh? Is that why you drooled when you saw my-”

“I did no such thing!” 

“Quiet Robin, surely you don’t want somebody to catch us. Or maybe… You do.” Slade slid his hand down to Damian’s dick, wanting to hear the noises fall out of his mouth. As he stroked, he also began to speed up his thrusting. “We both know Batman and all his other past mistakes are around the city right now. Who’s to say they aren’t coming this way? You haven’t been listening to your communication channel for quite some time now. What if they think you’re in trouble?”

“TT. As if. They know I am capable of handling myself.” Damian snarked back, but he had a feeling he knew where this was going.

“Oh, but I am only looking out for my dear Robin. I think we should check in.” He pulled out of Damian, turning him around to see Robin’s face. Slade tilted his head and groaned, happy with how his Robin looked standing there. A red flush covering his face all the way to his neck, goosebumps there too, eyebrows furrowed, mouth open and red as well. Though he’s grown, Slade can still easily pick him up and slam him against the wall, cape shielding him from the brick. The masked man holds Damian by his ass, the surprise making Damian wrap his legs around Slade instinctively. 

It was easier to reach his ear piece here, so that’s where Slade reached for. After pressing a hidden button, Slade waited for the piece to turn green.

“ _ -doesn’t answer in the next minute, find his last location.” _

_ “I’m sure he’s fine. He probably just left to chase a cat… Okay, I can’t see your face but I can see the disappointment.” _ _  
_ _ “He’s not a kid, Nightwing. He didn’t leave to chase a cat.” _

Slade tilted his head again, waiting for Damian to respond to the loud conversation. Finally, Damian huffed and held the button until it beeped. As he opened his mouth to respond, Slade deemed it the perfect time to slide his cock back into Damian’s wet heat. As he pushed Damian down onto him, he bit his lip to smother the noise he made. 

With the regular fire in his eyes, he glared at Slade, who only began to thrust slowly. 

Damian could feel every inch of Slade inside of him, in and out with perfect rhythm. Taking a deep breath, Damian began again.   
  
“Robin, checking in. Sector 9 is clear.” He remained calm. As calm as he could be. When he let go of the transmitting button, Damian shot forward and latched his teeth onto any flesh he could get to. Slade hissed as Damian bit down on his neck, but after he heard the hiss, Damian stopped biting and started sucking.

“So only you can leave marks.” 

Damian moved away from his task of leaving a heart shaped hickey. “I live with Batman, and as far as I know, I do not possess regenerative abilities that will make marks like these disappear quickly.” 

“Hm. What if I leave them here-” Slade leaned down as much as he could, lifting Robin’s little outfit to run the flat surface of his tongue against his nipples. When he felt the reaction he wanted out of Damian, he closed his mouth around them. After a few light sucks, he pulled back up 

_ “Robin, is everything alright.” _ Batman’s voice raged in the ear piece. Knowing that Damian would soon have to respond, Slade began moving inside of his ass again. 

“Fuck you, you  _ asshole. _ ” Damian hissed and melted at the same time, moaning one last time before turning on his mic. “I told you, the sector is clear and I am obviously alive. I will see you back at base to give you the report when you decide this stup-  _ fuck- _ stupid patrol is over.” Damian’s nails scratched against Deathstroke’s neck before he fumbled to turn the mic off, lest he forget. 

_ “What is wrong, Robin.” _

“Yes, do tell, Robin. What is wrong?” Slade said between thrusts, revelling in the feeling of Robin clenched tight against his dick.

Damian dug his fingernails in enough to leave blood and broken skin, turning the mic on once again. “I almost tripped. I will see you at  _ base. _ Robin signing off.” Damian immediately threw the ear piece on the ground when it was fully turned off. 

With fiery eyes, he looked at the ‘eyes’ of Deathstroke’s mask. “Now, fuck me. Really this time.”

“What a good Robin, being a good slut at the same time. Don’t you care that the enemy is  _ fucking  _ you? And you’re  _ enjoying  _ it?” With Slade’s mask against Damian’s ear, the sounds of Slade’s grunting is amplified. Damian began panting when he heard it, eyes clothing as his own quiet groans grow louder. 

“ _ Fuck _ . No. I don’t care.” 

“Mm, but that’s not right. You care, you enjoy it. Which part do you like the most, my little Robin? The possession? The knocking you down to your place? My voice? The threat of your mentors finding us, me inside of you, you drooling like a bitch in heat? My favorite part may be you trying to mark me. How… Embarrassing.” Slade pushed him closer against the wall, sandwiching him as Damian began to moan louder, chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to make Slade’s cock go in deeper, hitting his prostate.

“I do enjoy using you. How long have you waited for this, just waiting for me to use your body like a toy. Cum inside and think nothing of it. Just minutes ago, you wanted my cock in your mouth so badly, you met me in an alley. During working hours too. What if this was just a ploy to distract you?”

“ _ Fuck me harder, jackass.”  _ Damian’s hand slid down to his dick, pumping it at the same time he bounced on Slade’s. His breath left him in bursts, as well as moans. “Shit… Deathstroke.. Fuck. Please, harder. Faster-” His words turned to mush in his mouth as Slade hit Damian’s sweet spot over and over again, rumbling in his chest expanding as Damian tightened on his dick. “Good Robin, finish with me inside you like a good boy.” If Damian had the mental capacity, he would have scratched Slade enough to leave him a bloody mess, but all he could think of was a pulse. The pulse of his blood, feeling every heartbeat, the pulse of Deathstroke’s thick cock inside of him, making him closer by the second. “Fuck- I hate you-” was all he could mumble before tightening his hand on his own cock, cum landing on Slade’s armor plate. Out of breath and sensitive, Damian tried not to move. Though, Deathstroke had other plans.

He pressed close to Robin, smearing his cum onto his red outfit, and began to lift and drop Robin onto his dick. The mask made his groans louder, making Damian wish he was ready for round two. Damian clawed at him, hissing as well, when finally Slade came. Pushing deep inside of Damian, he wanted all of his seed to stay inside. As he pulled out, we watched some of his cum seep out and drip onto Damian’s thigh. 

With one finger, he gathered some cum and held it front of Damian’s pink, chapped lips. The Robin didn’t even think twice before he wrapped his own hand around the finger and put it into his mouth.

“So eager. Imagine if I  _ had  _ let you suck my cock.” Slade said. Damian gulped, finger still in his mouth. He licked everything he could off of it, swallowing quickly. Slade finally pulled his finger out, letting Damian drop to the floor as well. Landing on wobbly knees, Damian finds his footing, glaring at Slade.

“Mm. Hopefully, next time we do this, I remember to bring a plug. I wouldn’t want you to go home without a memory of me.” He chuckled, tucking himself back into his armor and wiping his finger. “Until next time, my dear Robin.” Slade tilted his head and began to walk off, leaving Damian to struggle over clearing the cum out of his ass, or going straight home.

_ Maybe I can keep the ‘memory’ until I get home. _ Damian thinks, gathering his earpiece and clothes and making his way back to the manor, cum still very much in his ass. 

  
_ Like I would actually let there be a next time. _


	2. Chapter 2

Next time comes quicker than he does.

He feels Deathstroke before he hears him, and tastes him before he sees him. His thumb is on Damian’s lip and dragging it open, before letting his now wet thumb wipe across Damian’s chin. “How has my Robin been?”

“I got fucked better than you could have ever done,” Damian says, feeling brave.

“I’m sure you did. Is that why you’re already so needy?” With a snort from Deathstroke, Damian bit down at his thumb. “Apologize and be a good boy. And to think, I had a surprise planned for you too. Mm. Oh well.”

“I’m not sorry. You probably liked it, pervert.” 

Deathstroke hummed again. His hand slid down Damian, resting at his neck. He pressed slowly on the sides of Damian’s throat, confidence already filling Slade’s posture. But Damian refused to give up, still standing as straight as he could with Slade pressing against his back.

Even as his knees began to shake. Even as he got lightheaded. Even as he could feel his pulse.

“I know you love this just as much as I do. Give in, Robin. It feels much better when you do. 

His breathing swallowed, neither of them knowing if it was from the choking or the arousal. Not that those two weren’t directly related. “I-” it’s hard to speak, but he’s still managing. “-refuse.” His voice is almost like a whisper. 

And just like that, Deathstroke’s hand falls. Damian takes in a deep breath immediately, like he’s drowning. He’s leaned over, hands on his knees as he coughs. Slade takes this time to stand in front of him. The armor shines in the moonlight, and Damian can see his almost pathetic reflection in the black paint. Damian imagines what it would be like to cough up blood right now.

“Is that it?” Damian wipes his mouth and stares at Slade.

Slade shakes his head but doesn’t move. Damian stands up straight, taking in Slade’s appearance. No mask. Just salt and pepper hair that makes him shiver. The eyepatch is there, obviously. 

Slade allows him to stare, like a gift. Soon, both of them grow tired of the silence. Slade is first to break the imaginary barrier between them, as he drags Damian close. He’s only a few inches shorter, but Slade still makes a show of dragging his chin up to align their lips. He stays still, not getting any closer. He just smirks, looking down at his lips.

Damian is flustered, immediately. He knows how to kiss, of course, but not in this context. There has never been a kiss between them. Only rough, hard, this-is-just-means-to-an-end sex. But Damian wants it. He wants to close the distance and bite down hard enough to make Slade bleed and drink it.

Slade wraps a hand around his head and drags him close again. Hard. But this time, their lips collide. Damian grunts, only out of surprise. The hand on the back of his head makes him tingle, makes him curl his hand into a fist just to ground himself. It gets even more rough. Damian’s teeth begin to sink into his lip before he can stop himself, but Slade encourages him by groaning into his mouth. He continues biting harder. The blood begins to drip out and Damian can taste it. He pulls back to spit it onto the concrete ground of the roof they stand on. He’s breathing hard enough for the both of them, but so is Slade, who gets closer again. Instead of going for his lips, he ducks down and swipes his mouth across Damian’s throat, leaving his blood there like a mark. When Damian feels it, he melts. In his mind, this is the grossest, dirtiest thing he can imagine and yet he just wants Deathstroke to make him bleed as well and cover themselves in their combined blood. 

“ _ Shit _ .” He mumbles. Slade just laughs. 

“Like it?” The dark edge is still there, but not as much as before.

“Yes.” Damian whispers.

Slade lifts his head to Damian’s ear. “I’m going to ravage you until you fucking scream.” 

Damian can’t wait.

`

In a room in an old apartment building, they stand in almost the exact same underwear. It would have made Damian smirk, if he hadn’t been so busy eyeing what was under it. They had been teasing each other for half an hour now, and Damian was getting tired of it. Just wanted the, ignore the innuendo, real meat of the situation, and it was right there. They began to walk to each other and as soon as they met, Damian leaned into Deathstroke and wrapped his leg around the other’s. This pulled them even closer.

Damian had completely forgotten his rule from last time. But Slade hadn’t. He had a grin on his lips as he leaned down to bite and suck at Damian’s neck. The other man couldn’t contain his eagerness at the feeling, he practically jumped closer to his tongue. But this position gave Damian the perfect angle to sink his teeth into Slade’s shoulder. As he bit, Slade hissed. This time, the skin was too thick to make bleed, but he enjoyed it nonetheless. 

A few minutes of this had passed before Damian became restless again. He had moved from his shoulder to leaving red marks across his back, but again, this became repetitive. Damian pulled away, finally. His neck felt like it was pulsing after the abuse it had just endured. He ran a hand over it while Slade wiped his mouth. Damian wanted more. He walked back toward Slade, but when Slade was ready to catch him into his arms, Damian pushed him back into a wall. 

“Trying to regain power?”

“Shut up.”

He didn’t want words, only actions. His fingernails trailed- no, dragged- down his skin, leaving pale marks in its tracks, showing where they all began. The pale marks disappeared by the time he reached his destination, and they became a flaming pink reminder. 

He had stopped at the top of Slade’s black briefs. His fingernails curled around the elastic, but didn’t dare go any farther. He looked up. Slade looked down at him, mouth slightly open, waiting. Waiting for the next move. This was almost like a battle. Each waiting for the other’s next move. Each wanting dominance. Well, until Damian decided the dominance isn’t what he craved. Slade nodded once, sharply. Damian ignored that. He didn’t need permission.

He moved closer to Slade’s bottom half. His arms snaked back up to the small of his back and flexed around the sides of his hips. Damian began to breathe fast and ducked his head low, aiming for his hip. When he got there, he began to suck, just like Deathstroke had done to his neck. He only stopped when a sizable bruise was left, and after that, he bit at it softly. And after  _ that _ , he would bite however hard he wanted. Slade hissed from above, but wrapped a hand in Damian’s short hair.

He wasn’t pushing, though. Damian almost wanted him to.

He moved lower, until his nose brushed against the base of where his cock steadily raised. His mouth was above it, but not touching it just yet. He nestled into where he could imagine the stubble that rested just above. He looked up again. This time, Slade was staring straight at the ceiling. He couldn’t even tell if his eyes were opened or closed, but his hips were so obviously pushed out. His chest heaved, and Damian nearly came at the thought of having so much power over this killing machine of a man. His hands gripped at his muscular thighs, nosing down until he hit the bulk of the bulge. His eyes nearly rolled back. His mouth opened and he let his tongue roll out against the stretched cotton. He could taste precum stained on the fabric, and groaned onto the head through it. His tongue searched for the total length of Slade’s cock. His hand rubbed at the shaft while completely covered the head with spit through the briefs.

“God, will you please just take them off.” The gruff, throaty voice commanded above him. This would be where Damian would give complete submission-

If he hadn’t gotten a taste of controlling Deathstroke earlier.

Instead, he tests the very limits of their shared interests, and drags his teeth across the covered swell. As much as Slade hisses painfully, he doesn’t move.

So Damian begins to gnaw at it.

That is what causes Deathstroke to yank at his hair. Damian can feel the spit he had been gifting follow him and drip onto his chin, but he still stared darkly up at him, who couldn’t even see his eyes through the white of the domino mask. The spit began to drip, and Slade only groaned and dragged his head back to his cock. He forced Damian’s mouth open, rubbing himself onto the warm tongue presented so graciously for him. Damian enjoyed this as much as Slade. He kept his mouth open, jaw aching, licking at what was in front of him. When Slade eased off, Damian continue doing what he was being instructed to do. He began to suck at the head, while his hands eagerly tried to peel off the underwear without interrupting what he was doing. He had to pull away at some point, but he tried putting it off as long as he could. When his cock finally sprang free, Damian’s wet-with-spit hands immediately found the shaft and wrapped around it, idly moving. But the real focus was his mouth, which he rubbed his tongue at feverishly. When he was ready, he began to take more. Slade’s hands were gripped into fists at his sides, trying not to rip out Damian’s hair by forcing him every which way.

Soon, Damian’s cold hands reached between the heavy thighs and fondled at what he found there. At that point, he had almost all of his length in his mouth.

He let it slip out, with a groan from Slade.

“Call me a slut.”

Slade’s eyes followed him, now bothering to look down at him. Too much work to look at someone so much less than you. “Just suck me off, slut, it’s the only thing you’re good at.”

Damian has never been so grateful that the two of them had such unspoken language between them. He didn’t need to explain that he wanted to be demeaned, just that he wanted to be called a slut. Didn’t need to explain how he wanted to objectified. He eagerly swallowed his cock back into his mouth, licking at everything he could and memorizing the taste. The musk of his pubic hair that tickled his nose. He closed his eyes as Slade got his hand around his skull, and began to force himself inside. “Open up for me. You’re drooling. Did you know that, you fucking whore? You’re drooling all over your chin when I facefuck you.” Damian’s nails scratched at his balls as revenge, but Slade only fucked his throat as revenge for  _ that _ . “I could keep you as my disobedient cockwarmer. Keep you in my bed and let you lick at me when I’m bored and have nothing else to do but fuck a hole. Let you cum over my thigh when you ride against it so hard. Or my chest, while you have me in your mouth. What if I held you upside down? You love the heavy head feeling when I choke you. Or when I scratch and bite. How much do you like pain, Robin?”

Damian choked on a moan.

“I can imagine holding a knife to your throat,” Damian began to rock against the floor, squeezing his thighs together for some release from the pressure. “you seem to like that. I could kill you at any second, if you fuck yourself too hard on my dick. Bite too much.” Slade simulated the feel of a knife passing over his neck by tracing a path with the point of his fingernail. Damian felt himself through the fabric of his underwear. Wet. Extremely. 

“You know I have an arsenal of guns.” Slade started a new fantasy that Damian could lose himself in. He now had complete dominance, and Damian was completely fine with this. “I’m going to hold a gun against your temple, one day. I won’t let you know if it’s loaded or not. I will make you click the safety off.” 

His hand was completely in his briefs, stroking slow.

“The entire time I fuck you, you’ll be tied up, with a gun to your head.”

His hand and tongue moved faster. His throat emitted noises he didn’t plan. He was jittery.

“I will destroy you, mark you, bleed you, fuck you until you almost pass out. Until I’m done. And then,” Even Slade’s voice was jumping. “I will pull the trigger.”

Damian came. His heart was pounding and the precum in his mouth only added to the drowning feeling he had. His head was so floaty, he didn’t feel like he was coming down. He groaned and moaned and screamed around the cock in his mouth, until the thick spurts graced his tongue.

The euphoria took it’s time leaving the room in a thick cloud. But, when it passed, Damian spit out the ribbons in his mouth.

Slade was out of breathe, but he pulled at Damian’s hair once more. He enjoyed it, but he would never let Deathstroke know that.

He stood up, knees red and marked up and down. “I fucking hate you.” He pulled Slade’s shoulder until he was down to his level and furiously kissed him. He pushed the rest of the cum still in his mouth into Slade’s. He almost parted, until he bit down on his lips again. Making them bleed again.

He grabbed his clothes as fast he could and dashed out the window. But first, he looked back. Deathstroke stood there, briefs down to his knees, bleeding, marked, bruised, and red. 

_ There would be no more next time. _

**Author's Note:**

> re: age  
> underage damian always had a thing for deathstroke so he would go to him to try and convince him to fuck him whenever damian was affected with sex pollen  
> slade was like "okay no, wait until youre 18"  
> so damian did, and then they played cat and mouse for a few years and then this happened


End file.
